


Through Blood, Sweat, and Tears

by BeeCeit



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Be warned this is super mega dark, Blood, Body Horror, Loss of Limbs, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeeCeit/pseuds/BeeCeit
Summary: Creative work really takes something out of youLike, literallyAt his best, all Roman has to do to get work flowing is prick his finger for ink, a 2 minute nuisance at worst, his ideas flow like wineBut the worse things are, the harder it gets, the more he has to sacrifice to his work
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	Through Blood, Sweat, and Tears

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh... sorry in advance

Sometimes being imaginary was hell.

Roman was used to being affected by metaphors. Bruised ego? Roman was black and blue for days. Panic attack? Roman was the one to hold a feral Virgil back from hurting the others. (And his arms would be clawed to shreds for it, too. Not that he’d let Virgil know, gods knew how much he’d hate himself for it if he did) Creative blocks left the twins stumbling blind, unable to leave their rooms for weeks.

But the one that brought Roman the most grief was creativity was “in his blood”.

Normally it wasn’t more than a slight inconvenience. A paper cut, a pinprick, nothing major. No pain no gain, right? It was a mild inconvenience for the sake of art. As long as things ran smoothly, not much was needed. Maybe he’d need to make a small cut on worse days, but nothing that would take more than a few days to heal.

But when things got bad…

No one had seen Roman in nearly a month. The door to his room had disappeared long ago, leaving a blank wall in its place.

For a while, they tried to keep hopeful. Tried to pretend they couldn’t hear him crying. Tried to act like he’d come out any minute…

Logan was the one to find the door when it finally came back. On accident, actually. He tripped over a folder that had been slid out from under the door. Logan frowned and flipped through it, unable to read most of the chicken scratch.

“Roman, is this meant to be a video idea? I can’t read-”

The door creaked open, revealing Roman, he looked thin, dirty, tired. His clothes were stained red, and for some reason, he was balanced on one leg.

“Thought you’d be proud, specs. Made it for you.”

“Proud? Roman, what- ROMAN!”

Roman collapsed to the ground in front of him, not responding, and losing blood quickly from the stump that remained of his left leg.

“Roman, what have you done?”


End file.
